


Forgiving Fate

by ice_hot_13



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-22
Updated: 2013-06-22
Packaged: 2017-12-15 19:34:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/853253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ice_hot_13/pseuds/ice_hot_13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Desmond tells Shaun never to save his life, and Shaun wished he could have avoided the inevitable so easily.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgiving Fate

 At the moment, Desmond seemed more than a little hazy on where exactly he was. The edges felt strangely blurred, like the real and unreal had been melted down and re-welded into something new. The pain in his arm had been dulled by the medication Rebecca had dosed him with, simultaneously robbing him of much coherent thought. Shaun wondered if she'd given him such a strong medicine because she'd been as irritated by his complaining as Shaun himself had been.

He was starting to find, however, that Desmond was just as annoying drugged as he was in pain.

"Hey," Desmond called out, getting no reply from Shaun. Desmond was lying on the bed, out of Shaun's sight, but apparently, Desmond could hear his typing. "I know you're there," he added.

"I'm surprised you know  _you're_ here," Shaun snapped, typing never slowing, "Rebecca should have knocked you unconscious instead of stopping at loopy."

"Huh." Desmond was silent a moment. Shaun hoped for a moment that he'd fallen asleep, so he could get some actual work accomplished. "She has, like, blue-green eyes. Intense. Like... glass. That's been made smooth by the ocean. Ever seen glass like that? Her eyes are like that. Bluey-green."

"Good for her," Shaun said tightly.

"Yeah," Desmond agreed, "Nice color. Lucy's eyes are blue. Like... not the sky." Shaun grit his teeth and tried to focus on the database entry he'd been working on before Desmond decided to start babbling. "Well, maybe like the sky," Desmond conceded, "But they're blue. Did you know that?"

"Some of us are more concerned with saving lives."

"You know..." Desmond said thoughtfully, "I don't want you to save my life."

"I'll keep that in mind." He had a headache. It was starting to get hard to think straight, and he wasn't ready to admit that, just maybe, stress wasn't to blame.

"Not just because you'd, like, never let me forget it. Wanna know why I don't?"

"No."

"Well," Desmond continued cheerfully, "It'd be because I'd never forget it."

"I should hope not," Shaun muttered, glaring at the screen, where words were starting to blur before his eyes.

"Like... I'd think about it. All the time. And I'd do something stupid."

"You're always doing stupid things."

"No, I mean really stupid."

"Like what, get yourself killed?" He pushed himself away from the desk and walked over to the other side of the room, leaning over Lucy's computer and turning on the screen. He could see the bed off to the side, where Desmond was looking up at the ceiling. The screen flickered to life, and he opened the file he'd left on the computer.

"No," Desmond blinked at him, watching his hands move across the keyboard, "You wouldn't like this."

"I don't want you dead," Shaun raked a hand through his hair, bit back the rest of the words, "just quiet. Maybe locked in a closet someplace."

"Oh. That'd be dark." Desmond yawned. "Is there a lightbulb in the closet?" he asked, sounding incredibly like a sleepy toddler.

"Sure," Shaun said, feeling strangely generous.

"Okay then. That's not so bad." Desmond shifted around. "But. Don't save me."

"Why not? I'm sure you'll change your mind if you're dangling off a bridge someplace," he said, as he sent his file to the other computer across the room.

"No," Desmond said, sounding very assured in this, "If you did, I would. That stupid thing. You wouldn't like that."

"What thing?"

"You know," Desmond said, as if it were obvious and having to explain it to Shaun was some great annoyance, "Fall in love with you. That thing."

"Oh." Suddenly, he could barely stand. The only coherent thought he had was a desperate prayer that he would never get so injured that he'd have to take the same medication; he feared what he'd say in such a hazy state.

"So don't," Desmond said firmly.

"Whatever." Shaun muttered, scowling at the screen again, "I'll be sure to keep that in mind when you're about to get yourself killed." He turned the computer back off, drawing in a breath to steady himself.

"If you want to save me, you can," Desmond said graciously.

"Oh, thank you," he said with biting sarcasm, scowling.

"No problem," Desmond said, and Shaun felt like hitting him. He turned to glare at the woozy assassin, but felt the anger in him die down. Desmond was sprawled across the bed, face turned against the pillow, injured arm extended across the mattress. "Aren't you tired?" Desmond asked, and Shaun shrugged. He picked up the records he'd printed out, sinking into Rebecca's chair and starting to flip through the printed pages. The words kept swimming before his eyes, stubbornly. "It's late," Desmond spoke up again, "wanna sleep on the bed? There's space. I can share." Shaun pulled off his glasses, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

"Just go to sleep, Desmond."

"Okay," he heard Desmond shifting around on the bed again. "Still space, though." Sorely tempted but far too adept at hiding it, Shaun remained where he was, eventually falling asleep slouched in the chair.

While it would take a heroic rescue from the glistening cliff between life and the utter nonexistence of death for Desmond to fall in love with Shaun, all it had taken was a smile before Shaun was hooked, and already, it was too late for him.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Rebecca was looking at him like he was insane, making Shaun wish he'd never asked.

"Say again?" she requested, and he frowned, turning back to the open refrigerator and away from the table where she was.

"I was just wondering as to whether that medication you gave Desmond yesterday would make him... hallucinate."  _He made me promise never to save his life,_ he wanted to explain, desperately,  _I wish I could have avoided this as easily as that. It's so easy for him, to avoid this._

"Hallucinate? Naah. Throw me a grapple?"

"A what?" He leaned around the door to look at her.

"The apple-looking thing on the shelf." He complied and handed her the fruit. "Half grape, half apple. And no, no hallucinations. Just made him act a little drunk." She chewed in thoughtful silence, "I bet you'd be a funny drunk, Shaun."

"You're never going to find out," he said, as if he himself actually knew what he'd be like.

"I think you would be. And... hmmm... I bet Lucy would be really talkative, y'know? What do you think Desmond would be like?"

"I don't know," Shaun said stiffly, closing the refrigerator door again.

"Maybe he's the funny kind," she said. "How'd he act yesterday?"  _Weird,_ Shaun thought, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest _._

_"I didn't really notice."_

They were interrupted by Desmond and Lucy coming into the kitchen, discussing something. "-I don't think that was their main concern," Lucy was saying, Desmond shaking his head no.

"They should have put more thought into what their employees wear. He looked like one of those mad doctors."

"He kind of was one."

"But you don't have to look like it," Desmond pulled out a chair at the table, sitting and not noticing Shaun's gaze following him. "It gave the place a B-rate horror flick vibe."

"How're you feeling?" Lucy asked him, and he nodded.

"Good as new."

"I heard you were practically hallucinating last night," Rebecca said, and Desmond shrugged a shoulder.

"Hell if I remember most of it," he said. Shaun pretended to be studying the floor when Desmond sent a look at him, "felt drunk, though."

"Are you the funny kind?" Rebecca asked brightly, and he shook his head no, grinning.

"The stupid kind. Saying shit I shouldn't, all that. Definitely gotten into trouble, spouting secrets like that," he shook his head, amused at the memory, "got decked in a bar once because I told a guy I'd been the one to slash his tires. Really oughta break that habit."

"Tire-slashing?" Lucy asked, checking her watch.

"Drunk babbling. But that would be a good thing to stop, too."

"I definitely agree with you there. Rebecca, want to get started on the maintenance check?" Rebecca said she did, and left the kitchen with Lucy, already talking about the animus. Alone with Desmond, Shaun attempted to busy himself with putting away the dishes on the counter, pretending he didn't know that Desmond was watching him.

"Know what's funny?" Desmond said suddenly, and Shaun refused to turn around. "People glow different colors."

"Not the colors thing again," Shaun muttered under his breath, stacking plates.

"I mean, with my eagle vision thing. You know, how allies and enemies and all glow different colors."

"Well, it wouldn't be much help if they didn't," Shaun replied shortly, hoping Desmond would stop talking soon.

"There are different shades, too," Desmond added, and when Shaun sneaked a look over his shoulder, Desmond was leaning back in his chair, looking thoughtfully up at the ceiling. "Lucy and Rebecca are blue, just blue. But you're not," he said, and Shaun tensed.

"Maybe you're just colorblind," he said, and Desmond scoffed.

"Like that makes any sense. But they're light blue. And you glow sorta... dark blue."

"Probably because you're still drugged."

"It wore off already, idiot. Besides, you always glow a different color." Desmond's gaze was still on him. Shaun concentrated on the countertop, every muscle tensed.

"Why?" he finally asked, closing his eyes, as if he could stop seeing the conclusion Desmond had clearly stumbled upon.

"Well," Desmond said, suddenly right behind him, making Shaun flinch, "you tell me."

"I don't know," he was practically whispering, hated how pathetic he felt, practically trembling from the proximity to Desmond. Desmond set a hand on his back, and he felt the assassin's breath on the back of his ear.

"Sure there's nothing you wanna tell me? Because I bet I already know," he said, with an assurance that made Shaun's breath catch.

"Maybe there's something," he allowed, "I don't know. I don't understand how your vision thing works. I have no idea."

"I was lying about that," Desmond said, "to see if I was right. See if you'd freak out."

"Oh," he managed, head spinning, something like fear coursing through him. Desmond's hand remained on his back; he could surely tell that Shaun's heart was racing. He wanted to break away and dash out of the kitchen, bury himself in research and hide until Desmond forgot what they were talking about.

"What I said last night-" Desmond said slowly, and Shaun wished desperately Desmond wasn't going to take back the only shred of hope he had, "I forgot to tell you something else."

"That right?" He couldn't breathe.

"Yeah," Desmond said softly, right against his ear, "the day I met you, you made me realize something, and if I hadn't, I'd have been pretty damn miserable for the rest of my life. And it felt like you'd saved my life."

He couldn't understand. He couldn't, because Desmond couldn't be saying what he was, couldn't be saying that what he'd been talking about had already happened, that he'd been genuinely serious, that maybe, in the midst of this terrifying world reality had turned itself into, maybe there was something that was going to turn out right.

Before he could truly comprehend it, Desmond had turned him around, touch gentle, like he was afraid of surprising Shaun. And then, then Desmond's lips were on his, kissing him, and it was every memory they'd never explored, nothing that had ever happened, but somehow fell into place like, always, it was supposed to, it was always supposed to.

"You know," Desmond said when they'd parted, voice soft and breathless, "it'd be pretty cool if you did glow dark blue." He kissed Shaun's neck, making Shaun sigh and melt against him. "Not just when I see you. Like... if there was some way I could always see that glow, even when you weren't there."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. So I could know, always, right away," Desmond said, "that you were safe. You know? Because I always get worried."

"You're the one that's always in danger."

"I just-" he shrugged a shoulder, arms wrapping around Shaun, and Shaun never wanted him to let go, not ever. "I don't know. I just get worried. Because I'm not here. And I wouldn't be able to do anything."

"It's okay," Shaun said softly, "you already saved me once. You're here, I'm saved. I'm in your debt."

"You think about things in a weird way."

"I mean," Shaun said, trying to hold onto coherent thought as Desmond kissed him, "I'll keep myself safe. For you. Promise."

"Okay," Desmond said, kissing him again. "Promise." He was quiet for a few moments. "I still wish you glowed dark blue, though."

"You're really strange, you know that?"

"I'm not the one that glows blue," Desmond laughed, and for the first time, it felt like, maybe somehow, he'd stumbled upon some little corner where reality wasn't so bad and where conspiracies hadn't choked the life out of everything and fate hadn't darkened every last splash of light, some corner where Desmond would hold him and worry about him, and, realizing that, Shaun wondered if this was the universe's apology for everything that was wrong in the world.

If this was what he was given, in exchange for the world on fire, Shaun forgave fate.

 

 


End file.
